Left to Write

Ahh, sweet California again, here with the lovely Annabelle at the Huntington Gardens near Pasadena. Fortuna has dealt me another unexpected turn as the temps here topped out around 100 this weekend in a freak wave of heat, but there is so much here to brighten the soul that I've hardly noticed. Tomorrow the mercury 'sposed to drop into the normal range and by Friday I should be golfing in the seventies, score and temperature (no Centigrade jokes). I'm sitting out back right now at Annabelle's little house in Attwater Village. A quaint arboretum shades me with exotic limbs and vines all above that silently crackle with the brittle, pink, paper leaves that occasionally fall on my keyboard. I'm just missing a cup of tea but I have other delights to make up for it. I spent almost one entire year in one time zone. Weird. Thoughts like that fly at me here and I relish a new perspective. Obviously I haven't posted in a month because I really just haven't had anything to say. Besides, this thing has gotten to a weird point where there are things I wouldn't now feel comfortable writing about since my name is on this behemoth. I do have a new painting on the slab but it's thousands of miles away at the moment. Funny that when I work on it again, it will take on a new personality because some of my experiences here will be in it emotionally. And that's fine.